Saul
by Jackrabbit2011
Summary: It's not a love triangle, or even a love square- but there are four people in love. This is story of heartbreak, of love that's unnoticed, unrequited, unreasonable- the one my brother, the Doctor, would never tell you... Rated for a reason.
1. Bucketful of Babylon

**A bucketful of Babylon ….and a belly full of hate.**

**- Nos Da Cariad (David Gray) **

If at the end of this story you were asked, you'd probably say it was all her fault. And back then perhaps I would've agreed with you.

But now, with several hundred years worth of perspective, all I can say is that she was demanding. And greedy. And so fucking _selfish_.

But then again, aren't we all?

**()()()()()**

I guess if you don't have siblings, it's hard to explain the bond between a brother and a brother- or a sister and a brother- if you don't already know it yourself. In a way it's not a loving, caring relationship, like you have with your mother- but it's not the companionable resilience of a friend, either. I suppose the bond between me and my brother is simply a knowledge that he'll beat the shit out of me on a daily basis, piss me off, shag a girl I like, steal my stuff, make me want to kill him with just one word, but despite all of that, I know one day I'd open my eyes on a new day and my mother wouldn't be there; my friend's would've disappeared and the world would no longer look down on me with welcoming eyes- but he would. It is knowing that my life could disintegrate and yet the Doctor would still be there, enduring the same thing right along side me.

He was everything I had, really. Well, when you have had parents that, for as long as you can remember, have done everything from throw plates at one other to letting complete strangers fuck them on the kitchen floor at four o'clock in the morning, you learnt to appreciate the little things that other people ignore. Like the fact that the Doctor (back then it was before our Names; he was Theta and I was Saul, but given I'm telling _you_ this story, I'll keep it easy and call him the Doctor where possible) was three years older than me, but he still let me join in when he and his mates were drinking themselves out of their minds at every available opportunity. I heard them give him shit for that to begin with, but not in a serious way; at the time, I'd never once heard him raise his voice to anyone, but no-one ever gave him hassle. I guess he never had to rely on shouting to make people listen to him, like most men did. Like I did.

You don't really expect an eighteen year old to even remotely care about his younger brother, but the Doctor did. He didn't always of course- back then we'd torn each other apart, sometimes literally since there was no-one to stop us if we went too far; there was never the shout that a father's supposed to give his boys when they're being too rough- it only stopped when we'd exhausted whatever pent up rage we had inside ourselves. In those days the two of us were so angry at everything-the world for seeming to be so peaceful compared to what we came home to every day; seeing our own mother shamelessly sucking off every bloke she could get her hands on whilst our father drowned himself in whores and then came home and slapped her about; seeing how everyone else our age seemed so…innocent, and then seeing my brother forced to pretend that he was same kind of cocky, arrogant sod that they were. I think it ate away at him a little bit more everyday for years, whilst the life around us refused to change.

Then, of course, we got a bit older and realised that we were really the only thing each other had. The Doctor seemed to change his entire attitude towards me in a night, and it was his peace offerings to me that made me change my opinions about him. As it turned out, all it took was him saying good morning to me to make me realise I'd spent half my teenage years hating the wrong person. I never asked but I've always known it was her that made him realise how much I needed him.

Zarja- back then we knew her simply as Gabi- had been in our lives for as long as I could remember. As prestigious men of the Citadel our fathers had been connected, and therefore our families, long before the three of us came into the picture. She was a year older than me, a year younger than the Doctor, _technically_ anyways- I have dim memories of her as a tiny eight year old, teaching the two of us how to ride a pony behind the back of the school stables. I never did get the knack for it.

Her father was at best considered a traditional man, at worst described as a greedy, conniving son of a bitch who never let his wife or his daughter step less than four feet from him and was liable to shoot any man who looked at either of them, even in an innocent way. Eventually he deemed her old enough to be kept away from boys and I didn't see her for six years. Well, Gideon was under the impression it was a little longer than that, but he never did manage to keep as good an eye on his daughter as he thought he did. For a time, at least.

I think the day our parents told us we were no longer to see Gabi; talk to her or even talk _about_ her, not ever, was one of the worst days of my life. Seven years old at the time, I'd burst into tears and screamed bloody murder. My brother didn't say a word, but one look at his face had made my screams die in my throat. I don't think he spoke a word to anyone for a week.

That was the first time she broke our hearts.

**()()()()()**

I can't tell if this is boring, tell you all this- but I've got to. Not just so that everything that happened later makes sense to you, but also because I have to tell _someone_. Someone outside it should know, so then at least there'll be one person in the universe who can understand what the fuck happened, cause I sure don't, even now. I've spent so many years turning it over and over in my head, running and rerunning through everything that I've felt, tasted, thought, since that first night; after four years of loneliness, finding Gabi on my lawn, staring up at me with the same look she'd had as a small child. All tired and sad and happy at the same time- that special expression she saved for me… and _him_, because we were the only ones who understood it.

I'd slid out of my window as silently as a cat, anxious not the wake the Doctor. This was my moment with Gabi, the special reunion I'd dreamt of for years; just the two of us, quiet and shivering in the wet grass, staring across the law at each other, quite unable to believe it was really happening. After a moment, I think I hugged her - feeling her ribs under my palms (she was tiny even then) and her skinny arms around my neck was absolute bliss. I don't know exactly what it is that a fourteen year old can think when he hugs a girl, given the fixation boys have at the time, but I felt something more than… _that_, although I didn't know what _it_ was. Later it turned into other, more distinct feelings, but back then all I think I felt was a deep contentment at seeing that my best friend hadn't entirely forgotten me.

I remember jumping out of my skin when I saw the shadow through Gabi's hair; I felt cool hands cover mine where they were glued to Gabi's waist, and it was then that I realised that I would never be able to come between Gabi and the Doctor, not matter how quiet I was.

The three of us stayed that way for a long time, until Gabi started to shiver with cold and we made her come inside. That first night none of us slept- we stayed up until the thin edges of dawn began to bubble at the horizon, drinking in everything she told us about the last four years. How angry she'd been at the forced separation. How the stable boy had taught her to shoot a rifle behind the stable block, hidden from her father's view, in exchange for quick pecks on the cheek. How she'd walked in on Gideon slapping her mother, and how he'd turned it on her when he'd seen her watching; and how he'd bought her a pony a week later to say sorry. It was the first of many times he bought her presents in such a way.

Following that first sleepless night, all three of us were too tired to stay awake for hours on end; so instead Gabi had burrowed her way under the Doctor's duvet, fallen asleep, and suddenly that became the routine. Every night after that she appeared like a ghost an hour or so after sunset- a little out of breath having run the distance between our houses-slept beside the Doctor (his bed, on account of him being older, was much bigger than mine, and comfier) and disappeared just before Morning Bell. Sometimes I'd jolt wake in the middle of the night, sweating, and look over to see the two of them deep asleep; Gabi curled into the Doctor's chest, a splash of moonlight splayed perfectly across her face, beautiful even in the grasp of adolescence. As delicately as I could, I would sidle into the duvet, and snuggle up beside her so that she was enveloped between by me and my brother. I'm not sure if she ever did wake up when I did that- if she did she never pushed me away.

Years passed pretty much in the same way. The Doctor and I grew stronger as we grew older; hormones and growing pains mixed with all the confusion and loneliness we'd had as children, manifesting over time into resentment towards each other as we entered our teenage years. Being several years older, the Doctor never came away from our fights as badly as I did- I spent a good degree of my time as a teenager old hunched over a sink or bath, holding my nose and spitting blood onto the white porcelain and growing ever more bitter towards him. He hated me because I was his younger brother and I was the only thing he could take his anger at out on. Simultaneously, I grew to hate him because of the fact that he was so close to Gabi.

By the time he was twenty he must've fucked more girls that our college had to offer. That was his preferred method of forgetting about the way our mother had started to look at us when we spoke- as if every bruise and split lip she had from her husband was our fault, as we'd made her life as shit and as empty as it was. I'd turn my head and pretend not to hear whilst he made some girl or another scream into his pillow (according to the girls who cared to inform me, he was a god with his hands) I don't think he ever let them do the same things to him, though- I guess we all have our vulnerabilities. Of course, I never realised this at the time- I never thought about it much apart from how bloody annoying it was to have to move to another room to read or do work, and how badly I wished I was lusted after like my older brother was.

At this time Gabi had been spending her nights with us for the best part of three years- every night, without fail, she'd be there, and by then I'd been spending so many nights next to her that eventually the Doctor pulled his mattress onto the floor, put mine beside it and it just became official- we all slept next to each other, Gabi cradled between us like a shared blanket, holding one of our hands in each of hers. Looking back on it now, I don't why I was ever surprised that things happened the way they did- everything was already in place long before the balls started rolling.

**Reviews would be appreciated. I'm uploading the first few chapters as they act as a prelude.**


	2. Too Cold For Angels to Fly

**And we don't want to go outside tonight**

**And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland**

**Or sell love to another man. **

**It's too cold outside**

**For angels to fly…**

**The A Team (Ed Sheeran)**

Then one night, she didn't turn up outside the window. Or the next. Or the one after.

By the third evening I was terrified, and I could see in the Doctor's pale face and single-word responses that he felt just the same. We had no means of contacting her to find out what had happened to our Gabi, and it was killing us, slowly.

It was reckless, what he ended up doing. He didn't tell me what he was planning- I doubt he even _had_ planned it- but the Doctor vanished for several hours that evening. I later found out that he'd gone to one of the middle class sectors, commandeered a car and driven to her estates under the pretence of being a rented driver. The maid who'd answered the door had merely said that "Miss was feeling a little under the weather, did not expect visitors and most certainly did not order a car." My brother could do nothing more than nod respectively and drive off after that, and pray that the maid was a recent addition and didn't recognise him as the same boy her master had forbidden his daughter more than a decade ago to see.

It took another week of anxiety and angry fist fights between us before she finally appeared. The night before I saw her, we had very nearly killed each other- both of us feeling the desperation in the other's silent blows- and were covered in bruises. I can still remember the pain in my brother's eyes as he'd thrown me against the wall and hit me until my ears rang; my own equally tortured gaze reflected in the black of his pupils as I hit him back. We'd needed to do something, _anything_, to distract ourselves from worrying about her; so we'd took it out on each other to the extent that the Doctor was dragged off me by our terrified neighbours. Our father had been called and he'd taken us inside and just looked at my brother without saying anything as we stood in the hall, shaking and bleeding and gasping with exertion.

The Doctor was taller than our father, and the two had stared levelly at each other, not speaking for an age until, without saying anything, our father had drawn back his hand and smacked my brother across the face so hard he'd lost his balance. That was the only time I'd ever seen the Doctor thrown to the floor during a fight. At the time I had been frozen with shock as I watched my father look down at his eldest son, kick him once in the stomach- hard enough to make the Doctor suck in breath- and then move away, turning back once to spit at him, before walking away and leaving him on the floor. He hadn't so much as glanced at me once. I don't think he even registered me as being there.

**()()()()()**

The following night was the first time I saw Gabi cry.

At first I hadn't dared believe that the tiny stone hitting my window was anything but hopeful imagination, but when it happened again I _knew_. I don't think I ever moved faster in my life.

It was early November by then and had been raining for hours- Gabi was soaked through and shivering as we got her into the room. Her face was damp, and at the time I'd thought it was just rain. But then I saw the look on her face and my happiness drained away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the expression on the Doctor's face darkened as he too realised that she looked different. She looked… pale and hollow. Exhausted. As if she hadn't slept or eaten in a week. Maybe she hadn't.

I'd asked her what was wrong, but the words choked her as she tried to answer. I remember feeling at such a loss as I watched her -the friend I knew better than anyone else in the world- fall apart in front of me.

At that point the Doctor had put his hand on her face, and she'd flinched but tried to cover it. He'd slowly turned her face to the side, and in the moonlight the purple patches on her cheeks, the finger marks on her throat, were horribly clear.

"What did he do to you?"

At first I'd thought my brother's question was odd, but he was older than me. I guess he knew what the difference in Gabi's body meant straight away, whilst it took me a good while longer to realise.

She hadn't answered him, but I'd watched her fragile composure crumble under the weight of whatever it was she was carrying unsaid, and once the tears started she didn't seem to be able to stop them. He'd taken her into his arms on the floor, and I'd felt the first pangs of jealousy that this was something the two of them were sharing whilst I watched, at a loss over what to do. I knew he could be there for her when I couldn't, and I hated it.

I was only later, when Gabi's hand slipped into mine and held it tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping her here, and I pulled her close- revelling in the smell of her skin and coldness of her fingers in mine- that I began to realise that there was something about that wasn't just missing- it had been broken, destroyed beyond repair. It was only then that realisation came to me and I felt nausea and anguish all at once.

I don't think I'd really, truly hated her father until that point.

**()()()()()**

The days that followed were timid and silent. The Doctor and I were careful around Gabi, treating her like an injured bird that needed to heal. She never said a word again about what had happened but we knew her so well she didn't need to. To an outsider she was back to her normal, slightly cocky self when she returned to us the following night. She called us "her boys" as she stole our crisps, beat us both at chess and laughed at our jokes like any other night. But there was something hanging unspoken between us, and we were tiptoeing around it because we didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know how I could help her, as Gabi had never seemed to need our help- but it was clear that a part of her needed our help, but she couldn't ask and we couldn't give, so we did what any kids of sixteen, seventeen and eighteen would've done-we pretended it didn't exist.

But something important in Gabi broke in that week that she disappeared, and she changed afterwards. She seemed to crave something that couldn't be found in the confines of our bedroom so we, older and more courageous than before, began to venture outside to explore to hidden delights of the Citadel nightlife; trying to satisfy whatever masochistic urges Gabi seemed unable to free herself from. It was there that the Doctor showed me his third option for forgetting everything he didn't want to remember besides sex and fighting- alcohol.

Given that I was as confident a person as mouse is brave, the option of losing myself between a girls legs didn't really apply as it did to him- well, not for a while, anyways, it took almost a year before _that_ began- and neither did channelling it all into rage and letting it lose on some guy's face… but swallow down glass after glass of vodka and inject myself with needles of whatever I could find was something I _could_ do. Deep in a drunken stupor, or high on something I couldn't even pronounce sober_,_ I managed to find an inner peace I'd only ever experienced when Gabi was lying next to me; just me and her in the dark beside a sleeping Doctor, not speaking but not needing to. Back then it didn't even matter that it was fake and everyone knew it. Only in this pathetic state could I cope with watching some bastard sliding his hand up Gabi skirt, planting sloppy kisses on her neck as he greedily tried to get her to go into some sleazy corner with him. Most of the time she obliged; she seemed to be trying to bury what had happened to her under layers of meaningless sex with grubby men- as if destroying her dignity was the only way to pretend she was happy.

Meanwhile, the Doctor would be entirely focused on the sound of the girl he had his hands in at that point, screaming for the third or fourth time and _I_, invigorated by drink and drugs would have my tongue down the throat of some girl in another corner, jeered at by the other drinkers at whatever bar we happened to have found ourselves in, and not even caring; I was just determined to lose this incessant ache inside my chest that I got whenever I saw a stranger with his grubby hands all over my Gabi, eagerly thrusting into her down a dirty back alley whilst she closed her eyes and waited for it to be over. I'd seen it happen so many times to her; seen the same blank, hopeless look on her face that I didn't know how I could take feeling like I was being stabbed repeatedly every time and still recover. The three of us were completely lost, united in the fact that we drowning but continuing to push ourselves further away from the other two regardless.

It was on such a night I lost my virginity to a barmaid who must've been at least twice my age; I fucked her in the empty kitchens and afterwards she just looked at me sadly and told me that I was too nice and too young for this sort of thing. I said it depended on why you did it and how you felt about yourself for doing it. She then asked me if I felt good about myself knowing what kind of path I was on. I couldn't answer her.

None of us were happy in those days.


End file.
